To the Edge of the Precipice
by manitounell
Summary: Tag for Episode 4.18, One Small Step


"Have you eaten yet?" Zane asks her.

"No. Just ordered," she replies. "You?"

"No." He finds his courage. "Wanna come back to my place to eat?"

His reward is a dazzling smile. His heart leaps even though he tells it not too.

"I'd like that." Jo says.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, he wakes in the dark. The tumbled sheets of his bed twist around him as he reaches for her. She's not there.<p>

He panics.

He's not proud of this.

He fights his way free of the blankets and stumbles to the entrance of his bathroom. He flips on the light, and actually sags with relief. Her black leather bag is on the floor. Her quilted kit bag is on the counter. Her hairbrush is next to her kit and her toothbrush is next to the sink.

He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror. Flushed cheeks. Wild eyes. Terrible bedhead. He looks completely rattled. It is not, he decides, a good look. He splashes water on his face, scrubs away the sleep and the anxiety. Brushes his teeth. Pulls on a pair of track pants. Waits for his pulse to stop hammering so fiercely.

While he's dressing he spots her black suit and blouse draped neatly over his weight bench, her boots lined up on the floor next to her clothes. He tells himself that they were hard to see, blending into the dark glass of the window behind them.

As he finishes, he hears the music that plays quietly in his living room. If his heartbeat hadn't been so loud, he thinks, he would have heard it before.

He finds her curled up in the corner of his couch, sipping at a mug of what he assumes is tea and reading something on her tablet. The graceful lines of her cheek and jaw are etched in sharp relief by the shadows cast by her long hair. She wears her own yoga pants and long-sleeved shirt.

Before she started keeping a bag with some extra clothes in her car, she would have borrowed his at a time like this.

He used to feel twitchy when his hook-ups wore his flannel shirts like bathrobes. Could barely wait until they left to toss his shirts in the wash.

He never minded waking to discover Jo raided his drawers for tee shirts and socks. She gets cold in the night.

She brings her own things now. It seems like this should convey intentionality and comfort and greater permanence. Instead, he thinks how easy it would be for her to walk out the door wearing her own clothes.

"Hey," he says.

She looks up and smiles happily.

"Hey yourself," she replies. "There's a pot of tea on the counter, if you'd like some. Just plain green tea."

He wants to say, 'let's just go back to bed.' But that sounds churlish even in his own head. So he goes to the kitchen and pours himself a mug of tea he doesn't want and places it on the coffee table next to hers before he sits down beside her.

She immediately scoots over and tucks herself into his side. Swings her legs across his lap. Snakes her arm around his waist. Drops her head into his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around her and rests his chin against her hair.

They are quiet for a time.

In the silence, he tells himself to take the risk. Speak up. Say what he wants to say. He takes a deep breath. And loses his nerve.

He runs his fingers along her back instead, traces the line of her spine. He knows she will shiver. And she does.

"How you feel about me now?" he asks.

He sounds smug. He is smug. Her whole body shuddered around him earlier tonight, again and again. If he concentrates, he can still hear her helpless, almost agonized cries of pleasure.

He's always liked sex. A lot. So does Jo. Plus, they just fit together really well. Halves of a puzzle he didn't know he was trying to solve. But he's also so much better at sex now than when the FBI caught up with him. The mouthy kid he'd been then, when he was delivered into her hands instead of a federal prison, talked a much bigger game than he actually had.

He's learned a great deal since then. Research. Study. Practice. Lots of practice. With lots of different partners. Learned what he likes and how to name it. Learned to ask, to listen, and to act on what he hears.

So he knows. However solid they were before, it's nothing compared to what they have now. She knows it too. He sees it in her face. Hears it in her sigh. Feels it in her trembling release.

He's convinced that's a big part of why she keeps coming back. Fears that's the only reason she comes back.

Her arm tightens around his chest. Without looking up at him, she says, "I love you. I've loved you for a long time."

"Me?" he squeaks, astonishment overriding any pretense of cool.

He immediately hates how pathetic he sounds. Can't believe this is the first thing out of his mouth after such a declaration. Can't believe this is the second time tonight she's answered a question he didn't quite ask.

"Yes," she says. "You." She taps her hand against his bare skin. "This you."

She pushes herself a little away from him. Her expression is solemn, maybe even a little sad. "But I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that the lines are blurring. Where old-you ends and you-you begin."

"We aren't so different after all?" he asks.

It surprises him how unsure he is about what answer he wants to hear.

"Oh, you're different enough." She smiles at him. "I _like_ you better. I think you like _me_ better."

A warm rush of pleasure runs from his head to his toes. He answers her smile with one of his own. "Nice."

She nods. Grows more earnest. Takes his hand, twines her fingers around his. "I admire you in ways I didn't before. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I should have."

He's watched her watch him for months. Knows she compares him to a version of himself who no longer exists. Has been so certain she disapproves of the man she finds in his place.

He can't quite imagine, even now, that he might have got it wrong. "You do?"

"Yes. I do." She nods firmly. "You faced up to the consequences of your own actions and you changed. You had too. You can be a much better guy now. Kinder. More generous. More patient. Grateful for opportunities you used to take for granted. Willing to work with and for others, even people you think are idiots. Earned real trust and respect. You actually have friends and colleagues now. And," she grins at him, like it's the most important thing. For her, maybe it is. "You think I'm smart."

He reaches up, slides his fingers into her hair. He holds her eyes with his own and says as firmly as he can, "I know you're smart. I refuse to believe I didn't always know that."

"Maybe." She drops her eyes after a moment. When she looks up, she says, "Old-you could make me feel really dumb. You never have."

He gloats happily at his own expense. "Good to know," he murmurs.

"You can also be much meaner," she says.

Oops. He drops his hand. What the hell is he supposed to say now?

Apparently nothing. She doesn't even pause to breathe. "Snarky, egotistical, and really cutting. You actively enjoy pissing people off now, calculate just how far you can push them and take it right up to that line. Before you just didn't think much about consequences. He never made me feel dumb on purpose, and he always apologized really sweetly once he realized he hurt my feelings. You," she pokes her finger against his chest, hard, "set out to hurt my feelings." She glares, "And made a really fucking good job of it sometimes."

He winces. He knows. "I'm sorry."

She raises her brows skeptically. "Are you? Remember – we're being honest tonight."

Yes. They are. He squares his shoulders. "I am truly sorry for being an ass at work. I put you in an awkward position and that wasn't cool."

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. After a stunned moment or two, she seizes his head, pulls him in and kisses him passionately. Tension he'd forgotten about uncoils in his chest. He wraps his arms around her, tugs her more fully into his lap and kisses her right back.

"You were hurt and angry," she says when she can. "And that was a really good apology." She adds, "Better than mine."

"You got there. Eventually." He grins his most charming grin. "Forgive me?"

She nestles herself back into his arms, her head against his shoulder. "Eventually." He hears her smile.

It occurs to him to ask, "Is that why you won't wait for me?

She burrows closer, but says nothing.

He concentrates on the warmth of her skin as it seeps into his. He knows how cold Titan will be without her.

He barely hears her when she finally asks, "Do you love me?"

Some instinct for survival he hasn't known he possesses rises up and takes control. He tells her the truth. "Yes. I do."

Then he hugs her tightly. Presses a profoundly relieved kiss to her forehead.

Only, after a moment or two, she pulls away. "So why don't you ever tell me?" she asks, "Why do I have to ask you first?"

He opens his mouth. Can think of nothing to say.

She waits.

He ducks his head, glances at her from under his eyebrows. "Still admire me?"

"Yeah." She smiles crookedly. "When I first told you I loved you, before, you told me I could take it back. We could forget about it."

He grimaces. "Ouch."

"Yep."

"So, I did better this time?"

She holds up her thumb and index finger, measures out about thee inches.

"I'm an idiot," he says.

"Yes. You are," she agrees, much too heartily. "And you're really leaving in a week."

"Only for the mission!" he protests. "And you're not going anywhere."

She drops her too-expressive eyes back to her knees.

"Oh," he frowns. His heart pinches tight, "you are."

She lifts her head. Exclaims brightly, "Not tonight!"

He hears the other answer. The one her words conceal. "But, sometime?" He doesn't really make it a question.

"Maybe." She drops her gaze again. Glides her cool fingers across his chest, traces the contours of his muscles and bones. Finally she says, "I might take a break. After you leave. Taggart said something today. A walkabout." She looks up and rolls her eyes. Her tone is mocking as she adds, "a journey of self discovery. He thinks I'd hate it."

He nods seriously. He knows she mocks things, when they strike too deep. It's a pose. He will not blow her cover. But he won't be fooled. Not again, anyway. "I've heard of those."

"He did one to come to terms with …" she hesitates, then rushes on, "an unexpected loss."

Whatever. He couldn't possibly care less about that crazy old Australian vet. "And you?"

She sighs deeply, and the look on her face is bleak. So is her voice. "I've lost myself. Maybe on a walkabout," she smiles then, a little tremulously, and her voice rises hopefully, "I could find myself again."

This no longer shocks him. She's been trying to tell him, one or way or another, for months now. He still doesn't understand. "Why are you lost?"

She swings herself around to sit beside him. Folds up her legs and hugs her knees.

After a minute or two, she says, "I used to know where I was going. Saw my future all laid out." She raises her hands, indicates some vista he can't see. "It was a good one. I was going to be sheriff, when Carter retired. Take care of Eureka and all the people who live here. And, while I waited," she drops her hands to her lap and smiles softly, "I'd have time for kids, because I was still only the deputy."

"Kids?" Why on earth has this never dawned on him before?

She looks at him, surprised laughter in her voice. "Yeah! Kids."

"With me." He's still processing.

"Well," she looks back at her hands. Twists her lips, "weirdly enough I wasn't sure you'd stick around for that part. Which was entirely unfair to you." She cuts her eyes back to him, "to the you you were then."

"Is that why you panicked when I…" Whoa. Back up, dude, he orders himself. "When he proposed?"

"Probably. Part of it. That and Carter walking in." She huffs and rolls her eyes, still irritated over that. "Without the interruption, you'd've been able to talk me off the ceiling."

And then she wouldn't have answered her phone, wouldn't have slipped into the time stream, wouldn't be the her she is now, with him. He's never been more grateful for Carter's awful timing.

"So why are you lost now? You already have a much better job."

"What's my next career move at GD?" She glances sharply at him. "Where do I go from here? What am I aiming for?"

Her voice is unexpectedly challenging. Possibly even a little, no, he realizes, definitely angry. He has to remind himself that she's not actually angry _with him_.

He turns his attention to her question. He realizes after some serious consideration that he's got nothing. She's right. There is no obvious next jump for her. Not at GD.

"I don't know," is all he can say.

"Exactly." She sounds grimly satisfied. "At GD, I'm at a dead end. In a very demanding job with no real time for a family of my own, even if that's what I still want."

Then she leans close and bumps his shoulder with hers. "But now, thanks to you, I've learned how much more I can do. You showed me a whole new world!" She holds out her arms, like she is embracing all of it. "Or," her grin fades, her eyes cloud, and she drops her arms, "I could have. If I had the right credentials. For the first time in my life, I wish I'd gone to college. Stayed in the service and completed regular OCS."*

"Why didn't you?" It's never crossed his mind before, but now he's genuinely curious. She would have made a fine CO.

She searches the dead, black flat screen in front of them. He doesn't know what she sees. The surface of the screen doesn't even reflect them, between the materials and the angles of the light. It's an eerie sensation. Like they aren't even really here. Like they're already gone.

"Two of my brothers have made that jump," she says finally. "But I was more excited about staying in one place, not moving around so much. Making my own life. Didn't want my future, imaginary family to be military brats like we were. When Cobb recruited me, Eureka seemed like the perfect match." She twists her head to smile briefly at him.

"I get that."

"I liked it here. Liked the town. The people. It was all stuff I could do, and do well. Being a small-town cop suited me." She flashes another quick grin.

He smiles too. He barely remembers her, in her deputy uniform. He thinks now that she was happier then than she was later. The Lupo he remembers. Of course, who could've been happy, working directly for the dipshit that was the tiny dictator?

"I liked Cobb. I was learning a lot. I loved testing all GD's new armaments! Knew I'd be a good sheriff after Cobb retired in four or five more years. Then he lost his leg in a stupid Eureka accident. Retired early. Didn't think I was ready. He chose Carter to replace him. I hated Carter for that."

"Yeah." He nods. "Fargo told me."

After Zane asked. Wondering why on earth Jo shot Carter in the back while under the spell of Holly's neuro-linguistic programing. Fargo told him it wasn't really that surprising. That half the town had expected her to shoot him during the first six months he was in Eureka. Carter had been a patronizing jerk, taking it out on her, his only subordinate, that he hated the assignment he hadn't asked for. The job Jo had really wanted. Because Jo deserved better. Because she'd expected to be sheriff herself when Cobb retired. Everyone else had expected it too.

"Things got better. Carter and I figured each other out. I learned to enjoy working with him, as a partner and a friend. Meanwhile you'd made it to Eureka and we were together and falling in love. Everything I wanted seemed within my reach. Then 1947 happened. I came back and you didn't even like me."

Her voice breaks a bit on that. He's glad she's still looking at the powered down screen. He doesn't feel guilty for what he said that day, but he does wish, in some inane, helpless way, that there were a way to undo it. The hurt was so wholly undeserved.

"And I had an entirely new job. At GD!" Her voice glows with pride and surprise even now, more than a year later. "New challenges and responsibilities I totally wasn't ready for. I had to scramble hard to figure it all out without giving it away that I had no clue about any of it."

"You succeeded brilliantly." The assurance is easy to give because it's true. "Everyone knew you'd changed – but never because of not knowing something you were supposed to know."

"I know." She flashes him a quick smile, but nothing more. No false humility in her. Not for things she confident she's accomplished on her own. "I've done really good work. Discovered I'm more capable than I knew. But now – without a degree, where do I go from here?"

He finds he doesn't like at all the faint desperate wail he is sure he hears, buried deep beneath her words. He heard it earlier today. The way her voice shook when she told him she didn't know how she felt about a lot of things. It sounds… dangerous. It sounds a lot like leaving him.

"Anywhere?" he offers tentatively. "Including college, if that's what you wanted."

"Anywhere?" She shoots him a withering look, "How does that help me out any better than saying 'nowhere'?"

He frowns unhappily. "I guess it doesn't."

"Or, I could wait for you? And then what?"

"I…." Well fuck. That's a perfectly good question, and he's an idiot, again, for having no answer ready. It's his turn to stare at the powered down screen. It offers him no answers either.

"On one hand, it could be so easy." She returns to drawing pictures in the air. "Let being with you shape my life." A brilliant smile crosses her face, inspired by whatever castles she sees. "Buy a farm outside town, have a bunch of babies… three girls and a boy."

Okay. Wow. Not something he's allowed himself to think about at all. Ever. Kids? Fatherhood? Exactly who was shaping whose life here, anyway?! Damn, Jo! _Four_ kids?

"Um…" He chokes.

"Which you are so not ready for, so why am I freaking you out?" she laughs and pats his leg, amused rather than hurt by his discomfort.

"I asked for it?" he says, relieved before he knew he was worried that she isn't upset with him.

And he has. Asked for it. That he hadn't expected what should have been pretty damn obvious is because, again, he's a freaking idiot. She's from a big family. Of course she might want a big family of her own. Duh.

"Yeah," she agrees. "You did." Still laughing a little at him with her eyes, before she looks way again. Her voice fills with doubt. "But is that what I really want? Or would I grow to hate it – knowing you and Carter and the rest were all off having adventures while I drowned myself in babies and craft projects?"

He experiences a fleeting vision of a drafty old house littered in educational toys and cross-stitched pillows and big whiteboard chore charts.

"Okay," he says, with a quick and only mostly exaggerated shudder, "that's kind of a terrifying future."

"Yeah," she chuckles wryly. "It kinda is…. There are a lot of bored, unhappy wives in this town. This place is a lot like a big military base sometimes. Damn near incestuous. After four years in the sheriff's office…" She trails off, turns her head to look at him. Her eyes narrow, "rumor has it you know a thing or two about some of those bored wives."

"I… ah," he stammers, totally unprepared for this abrupt turn in the conversation.

She smirks wickedly, but her eyes twinkle with good humor. "Not just a rumor, is it?"

Truth, he reminds himself. "No. And that's all you get."

She raises her brow in a mock glare.

"For now," he adds. He reconciles himself, with surprisingly little difficulty, to at least one potential future where he eventually spills everything.

She sniffs, but without heat. Her expression grows serious. "So, what would I be waiting for?" she asks again.

"I… I don't know." It's the truth, pathetic as it is.

"Exactly. You don't know. I don't know."

He scowls, not liking this at all.

"Hey," she leans over, kisses his shoulder. "Six months isn't that long."

He tugs his arm out from between them, wraps it around her shoulders and pulls her close. Leans his head against hers. Laces their fingers together when she reaches for his hand. "It isn't?" he asks.

She snorts at what she obviously thinks is foolishness. "It's less time than you spent in prison. A lot less if you count jail before your conviction and the time you lived in Carter's cell. It's shorter than either of my combat tours. I attended at least one special training school that lasted longer." She lifts her shoulder in an elegant shrug, "It's not even a full academic year."

"I hadn't thought of it that way."

He really hasn't. Everyone at GD has been carrying on like six months is a lifetime. A full sabbatical leave is half again as long, and no one expects anyone's life to fall apart or fundamentally transform while they are away, he realizes.

"You can't even grow a baby in six months!" she exclaims.

"I really hadn't thought of that way." He really, really hasn't.

He abruptly regrets – very fleetingly – the condoms he quit using a while ago. He squashes the urge to immediately find and trace the outline of the contraceptive implant in her inner arm.

"I'm not surprised," she laughs. She adds, "You'll come back. We'll talk. See where we are."

"If you're not here?"

"It's the 21st century! You brag about being one of the best hackers in the whole freaking world. You really think you couldn't find me? Especially if I'm not actually trying to hide from you?"

He catches her eyes, serious and determined. "You won't?"

She meets his gaze, her own clear and bright. "No. I won't. I promise."

He'd never known her to break a promise, not one uttered like that. "Good."

She leans in to kiss him.

He meets her halfway.

"We have six nights," she says eventually. She extricates herself from his arms and stands up. "Is talking how you want to spend them?"

He lets her pull him to his feet. "No," he says, "It isn't."

In the race back to his bed, she ends up on top.

"I win!" she crows.

"Exactly how I like it," he says.

* * *

><p>Thanks to everyone for reading along. I decided to play with style and voice here, and entertained myself at least. I hope you enjoy it too!<p> 


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